


Red Wings of Honesty

by sportarobbiephan



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Set after 6x19, slurring words
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:21:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sportarobbiephan/pseuds/sportarobbiephan
Summary: Created because of the interaction between Jane and Lisbon at the end and then Jane's face after she leaves with Pike.





	Red Wings of Honesty

Patrick Jane has just left a bar, obviously drunk. His keys are missing, and he can hardly stand on his own legs. He wobbles to an alley then bends over to throw up. He slumps against a rotten dumpster and falls to the ground. He is out of his usual attire, now wearing old jeans riddled with holes and a faded tee from the seventies. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a homeless man – or just another weak man down on his luck – getting mugged for nothing more than a couple of soup cans. _A crime is being committed_, his brain unhelpfully surmises.

"Hey!" He hears himself holler.

The mugger turns and rushes over to Jane. He is dressed warm, all in black and he holds up a knife, ready to attack. Jane bobbles, looking the man in the eye as much as possible.

"See dis?" He asks the assaulter, speech garbled from the many vodka tonics and other liquors. He holds out his wedding ring. "Itch alls I gotch left froma da weddin'. Itch real. Maybe qu’ter v’a millon."

The man wavers a bit then snatches it from Jane's open palm. He holds it like a hobbit's treasure and runs away. The homeless man watches the encounter with heavy eyes. He turns his attention to Jane.

"Much obliged." Is all he mutters before passing out.

Jane nods. He throws up again, this time on his lap. He takes out his cell phone and giddily watches as the numbers dance around. As they cease, he presses speed-dial one, in hopes of speed-dial four. After the third ring, the call connects, and a sleepy voice answers.

"J-Jane?"

"We neeja talk." He slurs, rocking himself against the rubbish dump. "Chew pitch me up?"

"Where are," he pauses then continues with anxiety. "Are you drunk?"

"I chant let ‘em leave!" He ignores the question.

"Who?" He sits up in bed, searching for an outfit. He looks up at his clock. 1:32 AM.

"Youse knows there's shumptin off bout dat Pike. I ongly took dat art crase cuz I wanted to one-up him. But I even gots Terezzza playin as my wife but she felled fer him instead."

"Jane."

Jane interrupts by vomiting, loud and long. Cho is dressed. He pulls on his shoes. He grabs his keys and a gun from his end table. Jane noisily groans then continues.

"I cares bout her hapness. But I'm shellfish."

"Where are you?" Cho starts his car.

"Alley. Wants to knows why I'm shellfish?"

"Why are you selfish?"

"Cuz I cares more bout _her _than her hapness. Geez, Fithsher…"

Cho looks down in shock. Did he just call him _Fisher_? Was he that out of it? He thinks about calling Fisher, then decides it’d be better if he handles this on his own.

"Youse knows, I wash gonna kill myshelf that day."

"What day?" Lisbon asks worriedly.

"That day I signed on. I wash thinkin nuthin was worth it. But I met her. Sho beauty-ful but troubled. Nuthin like Angela."

Cho slowly exhales. Jane never talks about his past. But now, while he's drunk and talking to him, thinking he's Fisher, he's replaced his typical attitude and is throwing it all out there. Cho slows down at an alley and shines his light. Nothing but a stray dog, eating from a trash can.

"Angela," he carries on. "She was cold. I din't really shee it when I wash young, caush we ongly gots married so's we could leave da carny life. But we wash gonna get divorsh when she gotch pregnant, had Charlotte. Shumhow, Charlotte sheems more like Cherezzza than Angela. Never liked Angela."

The call becomes a mysterious dead silence. Cho slows down again and again, still nothing. Another upchucking is heard, and tears do not form in corner of Cho’s eyes. He keeps driving and Jane starts up again.

"Butcha now she's leavin' wid Pike, ya know?

"You really don't want her to go."

"No!" his melancholy voice echoes. “You don’ get it!”

"Try the hug test, then. It's great for friendships," Cho advises, channeling his inner Summer. "Next time you see her, give her a big hug to test your-"

"Damn it, dontcha get it?" He hoarsely screams. "I dontch wants to _hug _her!"

Cho stills his hands, searching again. He’s confused.

"I done gived her lots of hugs. We gone undercover daching, shared food. I tell her shtuff I don't wants no one elsh to know. She's da ongly pershun ashide from Cho I let sit on my couch!"

"Are-are you at Slender Slicker?" Cho asks, cursing the hitch in his otherwise stoic yet sleepy voice. He thinks he's finally found him.

"Yesh." He sighs then enrages his voice. “T’resha’s gots hershelf Pike. An’ I want someone too… like Kimball.”

He drops the phone, accidentally disconnecting the call and allowing himself to throw up once more. It begins to rain as Cho pulls into the alley. He immediately locates him in a pit of vomit and booze. Cho silently props Jane on his shoulder and determinedly drags him to the backseat of his car.


End file.
